


Off To Camp Part II

by FrangipaniFlower



Category: Homeland
Genre: F/M, Fun, Inspired by a coastal walk in Cornwall, Summer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-31
Updated: 2018-08-31
Packaged: 2019-07-05 00:08:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15852231
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrangipaniFlower/pseuds/FrangipaniFlower
Summary: It's summer again. Franny is about to go to camp. Once again, Carrie and Quinn are not good at preparing the child's trip. But this year Quinn made a plan for Franny's absense.This little fic is meant to be a sequel to Inchy's fic Off To Camp.Happy Birthday dearest Inchy! You are a great person, mother, wife and friend and we are all so happy to call you our friend.





	Off To Camp Part II

**Author's Note:**

  * For [InchByInch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/InchByInch/gifts).



> I couldn't have done it without Sydney - thank you!

Meticulous planning is the secret of a successful mission. Some say it’s luck, but Quinn never believed that. It’s planning, expertise, knowledge, and being able to determine and use the best window of opportunity, however short it might be.

Sometimes, the planning part takes much more time than the execution; this time is no exception.

 

Weeks actually, but he’s always been patient. 

And now it takes even longer, given the fact that he is a half-cripple and moves just as slowly and clumsily as a tortoise.

It’s difficult to keep his plans a secret; Carrie has a sixth sense for these kinds of secrets and he knows she’ll eat him for breakfast should she get suspicious.

Four more days. One last stealthy trip to the location on the day before Franny leaves.

He tries not to think about how much faster he’d be with two functional legs but to focus on his list of prep work - there’s still so much to take care of and he has to get it all done without getting Carrie suspicious.

The plan is simple: He volunteered to take Franny to her camp as Carrie meets with a new client who asked her to come upstate, not too far from where Quinn wants her. Just - there is no new client. The guy will cancel last minute. Carrie will be annoyed over the man’s - he pretended to want to open an office in Beirut - lack of punctuality and will call Quinn to let off some steam, just after he drops of Franny. He’ll feign surprise. And then he’ll suggest to meet him for lunch as he’s just less than an hour away.

She’ll agree, reluctantly, and that’s the end of the crucial phase one of his plan.

The rest requires perfect timing as the window of opportunity isn’t too generous. But he’s good at that. That will be the easy part.

——————————

The day itself starts with a disaster as he forgot to pick up the spare shoes from the shop. Franny throws a fit as Carrie had special ordered them with blue-silverish shoelaces and SHE. CAN’T. LEAVE. WITHOUT. THEM! - doesn’t Quinn see this?!

He doesn’t actually, but since he is facing two pouts and quivering chins before he can even have his first cup of coffee, he fakes complete agreement and is glad when two faces light up in unison.

Since he is driving to the mall anyway, Carrie hands him another list with some last minute shopping - that fucking fan cord _again_ , oh, and there’s the stick sunblock... Maybe he should buy shares of the company. It seems to be a foolproof business since all of the summer camps in the fucking state of New York put these on their packing lists.

It’s almost half past ten when he loads the sunblock, the shoes, Franny and two more bags of _absolute essentials, Quinn, really_ into the Volvo and leaves, 23 minutes late.

Driving to the coast, hearing Franny’s happy chatter, a background sound he prefers over every radio program, he feels how the tension evaporates - and once again he has to silently admit that he’s just a damn happy guy now and when was happiness ever in his emotional repertoire before?

He inspects Franny’s tent for any dangerous perils - one never knows what new species there are - fire ants, wasps, hornets, bed bugs and whatever. And checks if the caregivers on site are really those which were listed and for which he made a background check.

Furthermore he jots down the license plates of the arriving cars. He’ll run a brief check for these later, making sure they match the families which are on his list so that there are no surprises.

“Quinn, stop being so paranoid. It’s not like we are some kind of celebrities,” Franny interrupts him, her sparkly shoelaces flapping as she comes to a halt next to him with a smile on her face.

_When did that kid become so grown up and so fucking perceptive?_

———————————

An hour later he is on the road again, feeling mildly embarrassed that saying goodbye for two weeks apparently had been harder for him than for Franny.

_And she even made me promise to get a dog. Carrie’s gonna kill me. Or maybe not._

But he has to admit he was equally amused and proud how Franny had patiently waited for his weakest moment - Carrie not around, he himself emotional because of the temporary separation from Franny - to lay out her plan and make him agree to what she wanted for the longest time.

And he fell for it without an appropriate amount of resistance.

But in the end, why not? They’d moved to the new house with their offices in the converted apartment in the basement. They had enough space. There is a garden and a large park as well as the river banks just half a mile away. He himself probably will benefit from a long walk twice a day; their consultation business is so incredibly busy that he doesn’t do enough workouts anyway. 

Adjusting his shades as he pulls onto the highway, he decides that a dog is _exactly_ what he wants.

——————————-

As predicted, Carrie calls just after one o’clock. Equally predictable, she is mad as fuck because their client cancelled last second, after she herself missed dropping off Franny and had to drive almost two hours to the meeting point.

“What about meeting for lunch?” Quinn aims for a casual air, like the idea just popped into his mind right now.

“In New York? It’ll take me-“

“No,” he interrupts her, “right there. I can be there in about an hour. We can take a day off.”

“Just like that?”

He can hear she likes the idea and that makes him feel all kinds of emotions, some not appropriate while driving at 100 mph.

“Just like that. It would be afternoon rush hour until you’re to get back to New York so the day is lost anyway.”

“Lunch with you isn’t a lost afternoon, I’d say.”

“So?”

“I’m here. I’ll see you soon.”

“Good.”

“Quinn?”

“Yeah?”

“Nothing. Bye.”

When she rings off he knows it’ll be a good day.

———————————-

They have a seafood lunch in a nice bistro Carrie already picked before he arrived, and afterwards they go for a short stroll along the harbor for coffee. He’s surprised when Carrie walks into a shop to buy a simple blue cotton dress and linen sneakers, saying she needs to match his casual Dad-dropping-kid-at-camp-outfit.

“Are we staying longer?”

She smiles and he thinks she might even blush a little.

“Remember last year?” Carrie asks as she’s sneaking her arm around his waist. “When Franny was off to camp and we went on a date? And had a staycation afterwards?”

Oh yes, he remembers vividly. How could he ever forget that night?

“So I just thought, maybe we have our staycation here, today?”

That’s better than he could have ever planned it.

“That’s what you want?” His hand rests on her ass for a brief moment,  
knowing that all he has to do now is to play along. Carrie likes to be in charge, and if she wants what he already prepared - even better.

She’ll never know that he made all the arrangements long before.

—————————-

When they are having breakfast the next morning, Carrie wearing nothing but his crumpled shirt, he casually suggests to go for a walk along the beach before they leave.

“I don’t know Quinn. I thought we’d use the day to fix the-“

“I’d like to go for a walk. It’s important to me.”

There, he said it. He doesn’t use it often but when he does her reaction always amazes him. Her eyes always fly up to his face, and after a brief second her features soften and she gets a thoughtful expression, and then she agrees to whatever he asked for.

It’s exactly like this today, he sees the emotions playing out on her face, feels a little bad to use it,  
but then she reaches out for his hand and squeezes it.

“You’re right. A break is overdue. We have two weeks to deal with the rest. A walk then.”

He carefully moves away the tray which is resting on the mattress beneath them, making space to pull her into a tight embrace.

——————————-

It’s low tide - a crucial element to his plan - and hence they can walk along the waterline on firm sand which makes it so much easier for him to move at a steady pace.

Their hands are clasped together for most of the time, and once they are away from the village’s closest beach area and its visitors, they are alone.

It takes them about an hour to reach the cliffs and another ten minutes to arrive at the small cove where he hid all the supplies.

The large rocks near the entrance offer an opportunity to sit down and take a break, and he’s pleased to see Carrie leaning back against the stone and raising her face towards the sun, looking more relaxed than she has in weeks.

“We should have brought swimsuits,” she suddenly says, laughing when she looks at him and sees him raising his eyebrows suggestively.

“Well, it’s just me who’ll be staring at you. So - go.”

“I was thinking we both go.”

He pauses for a moment, his eyes turning darker, and then she can see several emotions coming and going, all mirrored on his face.

She knows that pushing him won’t help, she’s learnt that the hard way.

What will help though is getting up, undressing, smiling at him, keeping the mood light and seducing him to give in to the temptation.

And when she’s almost naked, her panties the only piece of fabric she’s still wearing, she offers him her hand and a few moments later they sink into the cold Atlantic.

Carrie’s laughter and squeaks as he makes her sink into the freezing cold ocean make him laugh and a moment later they are kissing - messy, urgent,  
their bodies trembling, Carrie’s legs around his hips in no time.

“You planned that, right?”

Of course he’s made before he even started what they really came here for - but he can’t answer right away as balancing himself and her against his body with just one functional leg is kind of difficult.

He wishes he could fuck her right here, and he thinks she wishes the same as she’s rolling her hips against him with each wave rocking them up and down.

“Let’s say, I planned to take you here.”

They stay in the water until Carrie starts trembling and when he tells her to wait a second when they are back near the rock, she laughs happily and folds her arms over her breasts, covering what just was an amazing view.

She’s incredulous when he produces a large towel, but as soon as she’s wrapped into it, she sits down in the sun again. Whistling through her teeth when she sees him setting some food on another towel, and opening a bottle of water.

“Quinn we need to talk.” She tries to say it stern and matter-of-factly, but when he looks up to meet her eyes her resolution crumbles and she wraps her arms around his neck and pulls him into another kiss.

“When did you bring all that here?” she asks him a little breathless a while later. “Your sudden long absence two days ago? And here’s me thinking you were seeing someone.”

“You didn’t really think that?”

“No,” she admits, “you’d be too afraid of my rage.” And then she slaps his ass, laughs and kisses him.

He’s feeding her with grapes, and when he gently presses the pad of his fingers against her lips, she swallows the grape and parts her lips for him, slowly touching the tip of his finger with her tongue.

He holds her glance when she allows him in deeper, starting to suck his finger, a little deeper with each movement.

“I assume we know no one’s coming here?” she whispers when he withdraws his finger and pushes his hand under the knot of her towel, gently parting it.

“Yeah, we _know_ that it’s private land, only accessible via that long walk along the beach, so chances are -“

“That’s enough for me,” she sighs, his hand ghosting over her breast and the tip of his finger circling around her nipple being convincing arguments, “so that was the big secret plan? Romantic beach picnic and outdoor fuck?” 

“Maybe.” 

You have no idea, Carrie. 

He opens the towel and reveals her body for himself to look at and to play with, her narrow waist, the cute mole next to her bellybutton, her breasts which fit into his palms so conveniently as if they were made for him to hold and caress. 

Although it’s a warm day, the cooler air coming off the ocean makes her nipples get hard and the change of texture makes him want to feel them again, with his fingers and his lips, her body laid out beneath him, just the two of them, with time, patience and abandon. 

This is what he wanted for today - a day just for Carrie and himself, far away from their everyday hustle and distractions. 

Her hands come up into his hair when he gently closes his lips around her nipple, gasping when he starts sucking, harder than she expected he would.

She likes it that way. She likes to feel his desire for her and she likes to feel him so alive. 

There will be time for more later or even tomorrow, so when he feels Carrie being oh so ready and on board with his ideas for the afternoon his touch grows more bold, his hand roams over her body, kneading her breast now. He sucks deeper, grates his teeth over her tender skin, pleased when she’s arching her back in response and tugs his towel open, her hand searching and finding naked skin. <

He lets go of her breast with one last bite, making her suck in a deep breath and eliciting a moan and starts nuzzling her neck, his thigh between her legs now, feeling her pushing against him. 

“Pleasure seeker, you,” he whispers in her ear, allowing her to press herself against his leg. “What do I do with you now? I’d planned a tender seduction but I think, maybe–“, he pauses for a moment, letting his good hand trail down her body, feeling her warmth when he brings his hand beneath them, right between her legs, pressing it against her with his hip, “But I think I just changed that plan. Maybe–“ 

“Damn it, Quinn,” Carrie whispers, surprising herself with how much she wants him right now, this very second, trying to wiggle one leg free to open herself for his hand. 

“Tell me what you want, Carrie. Cause I think we should go for at least two rounds,” his finger finds her entrance as his voice is a charged whisper in her ear, “one right away, and then we save that tender seduction thing for later. So?”

It’s not that she’d need any further encouragement but the way he’s moving his finger upwards, between her folds, finding her hood, makes her gasp and rock her hips against him. 

He adds a second finger, firm circles now, leaving her breathless with desire and pleasure. 

“Make me come. I want you to make me come.” 

He moves away a little, giving his hand more range, breathing a laugh at her frustrated groan when he lets go of her for a brief moment. 

“You hooked up with a cripple, so give me a second, I only have one hand.” 

“One-handed superhero,” that’s her standard reply when he says those things. He knows she hates when he calls himself a cripple, “use your magic skills.” 

He’s settled in the right position now, applying more pressure again, feeling a pleasurable wetness building up, enough to push a finger into her and then a second one, feeling his cock twitching hard against Carrie’s leg. 

Withdrawing his fingers after a few thrusts he brings them back to her hood, pushes it aside and starts slow circles, her own wetness covering the tips of his fingers and allowing him a firm pressure, just what she loves. 

She’s a moaning mess in no time, feeling her abdomen tighten as a throbbing heat builds up deep within, Quinn’s fingers bringing her there hard and fast. 

“It’s so fucking hot to see you come,” he whispers, his voice hoarse, “come for me, Carrie, now, just let go and come for me.” 

Moving his fingers faster, just shy of painful, he makes her release, enjoying the feel of her jolting beneath him, forcing her body to keep coming as he doesn’t stop, her orgasm spreading and consuming her entirely. 

He comes up on his elbows before she even stills and pushes into her body, feeling her last contractions as he starts fucking her, her legs wrapped around his ass now. 

“You want to come again?” he grins, panting as he presses deeper. “I want you to come again.” 

“How about you come for starters?” she laughs, a challenging smile appearing on her face before she clasps her hand into his hair and pulls him in for a hard kiss, sucking his tongue and scratching his back. 

She keeps holding him when he pulls away to look at her, his eyes dark now, his jaw tightened as he fucks her with long and hard thrusts. With every movement, his pubic bone rubs against her clit, reigniting her arousal before she thinks it’s even possible. 

He comes in a storm of deep thrusts, making her hips come off the towel to press herself against him, pushing and writhing, his panting making her want to give him all he ever could ask for, feeling him shooting deep inside her just when she climaxes again. 

“Oh my God,” he whispers as they still, both breathing hard, and then nothing. 

A second later, Carrie feels cold water lapping around her feet and Quinn jumping up. 

When she forces her utterly spent self to look down to her feet, she sees the waves gently rolling against the secluded beach, high-tide closing the way back to town. 

“Fuck,” Carrie’s back on her feet now as well, “Quinn, we need to –“ 

She looks at him and sees him smiling, pulling their towels closer to the entrance of the cave and then it dawns on her. 

“You. Come here, you. You planned this. Look at your smug grin. You motherfu-“ 

He’s laughing now, coming back to her and closing his arm around her. 

“I didn’t plan for your feet to get wet,” he chuckles, “but I got, ehm, distracted…,” his hand trails down her spine, down to her ass where he lets it rest with a sigh, “ but yes, I planned for us to get stuck here for a while.” 

“So for how long? Six hours til low tide?” 

“Four until the beach is accessible again for a walk back. But come.” 

She’s still mad at him, he feels her typical tension but he’s confident she’ll relax again soon enough. 

And she does. When Quinn leads her into the cave and she sees the metallic box, opened and revealing its contents, her anger vanishes. 

“Fire wood, wine, more food, a sleeping bag – someone planned it all, huh? Like a romantic camping trip?” 

“Like that, yeah.” Suddenly he feels embarrassed and doesn’t even know why. Or he does know but it’s not that they usually speak about this. They _are_ a couple, sharing their lives, their career, the joys and burdens of parenting. They have sex, regularly, not just occasionally and they even say the three words often enough to make them feel true. But they take it all for granted. They don’t appreciate each other enough, he thinks. They don’t cut out enough time for themselves, for being together, just the two of them, not as colleagues, parents, house owners, but as lovers and companions. So this is why he wanted to make this weekend - special. 

“So, like date,” Carrie nods, understanding what he means, “just - not that I’m complaining - but why here and not just a nice hotel?” 

“You don’t like it?” 

“I love it. I’m just curious.” 

“Look, neither of us are great at ignoring our phones or not checking email, or not doing whatever and –“ 

“And that’s why you decided we need to detox?” 

“To what?” he asks. 

“Detox. Withdrawal. Cold turkey. No signal here, no way back to civilization, just you and me and that magic treasure chest full of goodies. So what’s the plan? More food, campfire, and more–,” she leans in to kiss him, just a brief peck, “sex maybe? And it’s not even Sunday.” 

At this, he has to laugh. 

“Sorry, no _Sharp Objects_ as foreplay,” referring to her favorite Sunday evening pastime. 

And that settles it. 

They slip into their clothes and set their fire and picnic at the entrance of the cave, eating and drinking and talking as the afternoon draws into evening and the light gets colder and blue until the sun finally disappears. 

By then, Carrie’s cheeks carry a soft pink glow and when she smiles at him – good God, it’s the best evening they’ve had in ages. 

They talk. Not about organizing stuff, not about who’ll attend the parent-teacher-meeting, not about work, not about the general absurdity of the news these days and how downright scary some of that shit is – not about the dog he promised Franny, he saves that for later – but about _them_ , how they feel a little more than two years after Berlin, what the last year brought them, what they wish for and what makes them happy. 

“You. You still make me happy. Almost every day,” Carrie tells him after a long and amicable silence, turning around to wrap her arms around him. 

“Even if my socks never come out of the laundry in pairs?” Quinn teases, mentioning a pet peeve of hers. 

“Even then. I’d miss the bickering and complaining if they would,” Carrie confesses, chuckling, “but you didn’t bring me here to talk about who does the laundry, right?” 

“No. I brought you here to –,” but he won’t ever finish that sentence as they both suddenly decide there’s been enough talking, their eyes locked for a long and charged moment. 

This time, it’s different. They take their time. It’s slow and meaningful -- a promise not to lose each other while being together but to appreciate and cherish what they are. 

There are whispered words which don’t make too much sense as hands and mouths map their bodies and explore anew, knowing all too well how to make the desire almost unbearable. 

Quinn brings her off for the first time with his mouth and tongue on her clit, making her scream when she comes with an intensity she herself hadn’t expected, but after he keeps her on the brink for the longest time, enjoying her being at his mercy, he hooks a finger into her and licks and sucks her with abandon, enjoying her breathing getting ragged, her hips surging to meet him, knowing it will be a night to remember. He loves doing this to her, and he loves feeling her unravel, begging him to make her come – _fucking finally_. He breathes a laugh against her clit when she starts the swearing what she’ll do to him if he doesn’t finish her _now_ and then he finally ups the pace, steadily licking at the speeds she desires, and keeps rubbing that little patch of rough tissue inside her with his finger, feeling her contractions around him. It’s when he suddenly sucks her clit – she’s catapulted into oblivion, her vision fading to grey and stars, her body convulsing and shuddering, her own voice making a soft scream, her climax hitting her as towering waves, taking her with them. 

Curled up against his body she’s feeling spent and satisfied, her breathing evening out slowly, his hand caressing her back. She feels his cock pressed against her tummy and brings her hand between them to stroke him lazily and playfully, enjoying to feel the smooth skin under her fingers, knowing there’s so much time tonight to do it again, and again. 

She thinks about going down on him to reciprocate what he just gave her but then she decides to be selfish and to give in to her want to have him before her body’s even reconnected with the world, allowing him to reawaken her, knowing he’ll enjoy starting at an indolent pace and make it last. 

“Come inside me,” she whispers. She lifts herself up with her hands around his neck and kisses him. Then she reaches down for him and presses the head of his cock into her. 

“You feel so good," she whispers . . . and then Quinn can’t hold back any longer. He plunges inside her, deep into that maddening clutch, that heat. Carrie moans, her hands locked onto his shoulders, her breath against his face, her voice in his ear, making him want her even more. 

“Oh, baby," he gasps as she puts her lips against his ear, whispering his name over and over, like a chant, or a song, or a prayer; her body receiving him, her movements soft and slow, letting him set the pace. 

There sex is often demanding and rough, and he wouldn’t want to change it, it’s who they are, but even more he enjoys the times when there’s that deep connection palpable in every move and every sigh, when there’s suddenly that tenderness breaking out into the open and making them both vulnerable and raw. 

“Not yet,” he whispers when the surge of her hips indicates that she’s coming back and her body rejoices in pleasure again, “not yet.” 

He’s deep and stays there, slow movements within a short range, deliberately denying himself and her to go there too fast. 

Coming up on his elbow, he looks into her eyes as he keeps fucking her, knowing she’s his, right now, she’s completely his and he owns her, body and soul and heart, and that’s still the most erotic thing he can think of, each and every time. 

“Keep your eyes open,” he grinds out, wanting to see her and to lose himself in that intense blue. 

He feels her body writhing beneath him, her hands pressing his ass deeper, sees her lips open and slightly wet, her eyes locked with his, and feels her hand venturing deeper, fingertips ghosting over his rim, pressing a little further, a welcome tingle adding to the spectacular tightening at the base of his spine, which will release very soon. 

“Carrie,” he groans, utterly helpless against the force building up inside him,“yeah. That.” 

It’s just the tip of her finger which she slips inside, gentle pressure, a brief moment in which he almost forgets to breathe, her finger doubling his pleasure, those small circles which catapult him into a careening nowhere, her body and her voice his only tether. He’s giving up the indolent pace, it’s fast and hard now, irregular, somehow his short circuited brain notices that she’s going with him, responding to his thrusts in perfect countermotion, and her finger still adding to the mind-boggling perfection, her body trembling beneath him, her voice gasping his name, again and again. 

They finally still and don’t speak, there are no words. It’s dark by now and the display of stars is worthy of that night. He only pulls out of her, reluctantly, when he feels himself soften, but stays on top of her, feeling her breathing evening out. 

When they finally let go, he rolls next to her and wraps the sleeping bag around them, creating the warm cocoon in which they drift off to sleep for a few hours. 

Carrie wakes up and feels him pressed against her back, still holding her with his good arm around her waist, his breath warm against the nape of her neck. It’s still night, dark, the sky filled with stars, and she senses him being awake despite he’s not moving. Or maybe he is moving, there’s a familiar twitch against her ass and he’s holding his breath for a second before he exhales, his lips pressed against her neck now for a kiss. 

He knows she’s awake, she doesn’t know how he does it, but he even knows at home when she’s two walls apart from him and he’s already making coffee. 

His hand closes around her breast, gentle and warm, while his upper leg scissors her legs open, she hears a pleased sigh when she locks her calf around his knee, opening up for him. 

“One more, my Carrie,” he whispers, “just one and then we can go back to sleep. You don’t need to do anything - just enjoy.” 

She’s feeling a pleasant soreness and knows he realizes this when his hand wanders between her legs and two long fingers start playing with her, making her wet enough so he can enter her without causing any discomfort. He knows her body now like he always knew her soul and that thought makes her incapable of resisting him. 

He slides into her and starts a languorous pace, his wet fingers slowly circling her clit while he moves back and forth, pleased when she’s rocking her hips in response, joining his slow dance. 

He’s there before she’s close enough but he keeps rubbing her while he’s coming inside her, the sticky slippery wetness between her legs allowing him firmer and faster movements now, coaxing her tired body into another orgasm. She’s silent this time, canting and pressing her clit against his hand, almost too tired but forcing her body to cooperate for that sweet fall into bliss. 

“Come for me, Carrie. I know you’re close,” Quinn whispers, “I know you want to. Just let go. You don’t need to do anything. Just go with me.” 

She falls asleep right after, a last sweet wave of her orgasm taking her into darkness and silence, Quinn holding her for the rest of the night. 

_———————————_

There’s wafts of mist over the ocean when they wake up, the sun sending her first rays of golden light, but it takes another hour until she can cut through the mist. 

They go for another swim, and this time they really swim, enjoying the serenity of the morning. 

Back in the cave they get dressed and pack everything back in the box and the backpack - with the two of them together, they’ll be able to take it all back to the village in one trip 

“You know what’s missing?” Carrie asks as they make sure the fire is completely extinguished. 

“Complaints?” 

“Coffee,” she laughs. 

“I’ll buy you breakfast and coffee as soon as we are back to the harbour.” 

“I’m just surprised you didn’t bring a thermos, or a coffee maker for a campfire, given the fascination for camping gear you have,” she teases him, her chin pointing to the waterproof box. 

“Next year. You can give me one for Christmas.” 

“You’d want that?” 

An open fire coffee maker?” he asks, incredulous about the turn that conversation took. 

“No. To come back here. Next year.” 

“Ah, that. I’d move into that cave with you if that’s what you want.” 

“Does it have TV?” 

“Why?” 

“Sunday evenings. Sharp Objects.” 

She tries to duck away under his arm, but he’s faster, as always -- that man is so much more resourceful with one arm than anyone else with two. He playfully locks her under his arm, having the guts to lift her from ground, just enough that her feet tangle in the air. 

She’s laughing and trying to wriggle free, knowing he won’t let her. 

“What do you want?” she tries to negotiate. 

“What do you offer?” 

“A weekly date night. Just you and me.” 

“Not talking business,” he adds. 

“Granted. Anything else? Or will you release me now?” 

Suddenly he thinks – he might not get a better shot. It’s out of the blue, but is it too far fetched? And even if– 

“Marry me.”

She still caught under his arm, so he releases her to do this properly and to be able to look at her. 

He can’t kneel down, not after a night spent on wet sand and rocks, but he takes her hand and looks at her. 

“I mean it. I’d like you to be–“ 

“Yes,” she says, as simple as that, “yes, I’ll marry you.” 

He feels himself mirroring her smile, and how it’s getting broader while his heart is widening in his chest, and when he leans in to kiss her there’s a brief moment when he can’t believe she’s his - it just took a few years and a couple of terrorist attacks and a night in a cave. 


End file.
